Waiting Room

Dedicated to the memory of my friend who recently lost his battle with brain cancer. 

Gathered in the waiting room

We watch as you approach the threshold 

The door stands wide open

The Mercy Seat beckons

Your face basks in the glory of 

Expectant, wild hope 

One foot in the open doorway

One foot firmly grounded in earth

n the verge of stepping into the Hall of the King

The ache to go battling the longing to stay


Your entrance to eternity

Looks like an exit from this side

From here to there only a step for you

A chasm we can’t traverse, for now

anting to leave nothing unsaid

Words of love mingle with goodbyes

Farewells overshadowed by wistful 

Glances to the open door

The impulse to hold you back

Struggles with the desire to set you free


ou stepped through the curtain

Into His receiving arms, 

Leaving our waiting room dimmer

Warmth and light departing with you

ternity was tangible and our wait seemed shorter

With you on this side, waiting to go

But the still and always open door beckons us

Knowing you, with Him, await us on the other side

e remain for now in the waiting room

Our mandate to stay fighting our yearning to follow


If We Were a Body


I wrote this, then I asked God to show me where I lack love…And He did.

If We Were a Body

If we were a Body–
No part unnecessary
None worthy of being overlooked–
Would she still sit
Isolated in the crowd
a touch
a smile
a glance that says…
“I notice you”
If we’re a Body?

If we were His Workmanship–
One great Temple
Established on a living Cornerstone
Fitted together
Chiseled, scraped and smoothed just so
And meant to be a Beautiful Place
A Holy Temple welcoming the Glory of God–
Would this little one be
Judged too ugly to fit within the
Beautiful framework intended for God’s dwelling
Left out
Wanting only to feel part of a whole–
If we were His workmanship?

If we were His Bride–
Redeemed from the slave market
Dressed in a robe of His making
Perfected in His love–
Would she still see herself
Soiled and ashamed?
Yearning to be welcomed
To the Groom’s banquet table
But feeling
If we were His Bride?

If we were a Family–
Adopted as longed-for children
Chosen, not born
Inheritance freely shared
By the only One with any right to
His Glorious Riches–
Would a little brother
Beg for scraps under the table
Like an unwanted orphan
From an unclean land–
If we were a Family?

If He were our Peace–
Making One from many
The Reconciled from the Separate
Bringing near those of us who were far away–
Would their faces still be
Pressed against the glass
Looking from the outside
Treated as strangers…
“Who are They?”
“What do you think They want?”
“Maybe if we’re quiet, They’ll go away”
If He were our Peace?

If we really were His Body–
Built up and connected by
Blood and Tears
Nourished with the Bread of Life
Washed in Living Water–
Would they feel overlooked
Passed over
Desperately longing for an invitation…
“Stop and stay”
“Eat and drink”
“Rest and grow”
…that never seems to come?–

If we really were His Body?